I've haven't updated this blog in a while because I really have struggled to go back in my mind to those days where I had all my friends around me. But recently, I posted something on Twitter and gained a bit of backlash from someone, thinking I was talking about them, instead of understanding who/what I was talking about.
My past has impacted who I am and what I stand for and I doubt much will ever change in that realm. But I want to share just a bit, to see if I can bring some clarity to this situation once and for all.
I spent nearly 17 years of my life in a church that was secluded, community-like, with a little over a thousand people making up the whole of everyone I really knew. We went into town to get groceries, and shopped for cloth to make our own clothes and sometimes frequented a thrift store or two, and of course, book stores. But over all, we didn't communicate with the outside world besides those who came to the visitors center, and those who enjoyed the annual Thanksgiving Fair they have once a year.
I don't know how well I can explain the "rules and regulations" of this place. It's been 6 years since I was there, and 10 years since I was fully involved with the church. As I explained before, my Dad was "disassociated" from the church when I was about 16 years old because he didn't believe in complete non violence, (to extreme extents) and didn't believe that "running everything by the brothers" was necessary to live life. Here's a few examples, if we wanted to take a vacation, you had to talk to the brothers and explain every single thing you planned on doing and who you were planning on seeing and how long you'd be gone. If they didn't feel the Spirit of God in it and didn't believe that you were in line with the Word of God, they would tell you to "go pray again" until you "hear from God." I'm not talking about them disagreeing with you wanting to go to a strip club, I'm talking about simple things like, not thinking your children should be around their aunts and uncles or cousins, or whatever the case may be. You were never allowed to go to Six Flags or Disney Land. Entertainment of that sort was of the devil and not needed.
Another example, you didn't just "fall in love" with whoever you wanted. You weren't allowed to flirt, talk with or smile at the opposite gender. Now, that seems extreme and some would beg to differ from me who grew up in that church. But I have to say, different rules applied to different people. It was never the same for everyone. You never knew where you stood and sometimes you might just glance at a boy and you'd be called out for it and disciplined. Other times, like me, had "permission" to work with young men on a certain level and talk with them, because we all played instruments together for the Little Kids Choir. But beyond that, no relationship was allowed. When you wanted to get married, you had to talk to your parents and the elders of the church. The young woman would be asked to pray to see if she felt God leading her to marry someone. I honestly don't know what happened if someone felt to marry someone different than what the elders felt. I was never in that place so I didn't experience that.
Flowers at weddings needed to be minimal and simple. The bride didn't have bridesmaids or a bouquet. Her dress needed to be simple and near the end of my time there, they needed to be dyeable and reworn.
This stuff wasn't just suggestions of like, "Oh, let's be resourceful and see how cheap we can have a wedding for." It was mandated and if you didn't run everything by the brothers to make sure they approved, you ran the risk of being in trouble and possibly getting disassociated for rebellion.
While all this (and there is tons more I could share) seems outrageous, to me, I was fine with it. I loved it there. I sunk my life into these people and I never imagined I'd leave or have to leave. I liked wearing dresses. I loved my long hair. I didn't mind the way marriages worked. I loved the community and the gardening, homeschooling, home birth, and everything else about the life. I struggled through four years while my Dad was disassociated, before he finally left, to keep my head above water and wait for the day they'd accept me back. They said because of the "sins of my parents" I had to be sidelined. We never understood why. There was a family similar to ours that had a dad disassociated for similar things and yet he just stayed home while his family was fully involved. They would just say our situation was "unique" and "different." When we would ask what was unique, we were questioning authority and never got an answer.
The last year I was there, they would accuse me of being the one who was leaking information to outsiders about their Sunday church services (which were closed to the public and they had security around so no one could just walk in). Funny thing was, I wasn't in the church meetings and no one would tell me what was going on in them, so there was no way I could be leaking any information. Another weird thing they accused my dad of was having a 9mm gun in his glove compartment, and the only gun he ever owned was a BB gun and he wouldn't even shoot a grasshopper. He literally target practiced with grass blades. No joke. Near the end, I would have meetings with a couple of the elders of the church there was raised voices, and other types of verbal abuse I won't go into detail with here. At the time, I thought it was normal. It was all I had ever known. Nothing seemed strange to me. But I finally had to make a choice to leave or not.
I left my aunt, uncle and cousins there and of course, we share a Grandma. After we left, she got the story from them, which was told from a perspective to make them look good and like we were the bad guys. I heard rumors (unsure who started them) that they were telling people at Sunday meetings that I had left, gone off the deep end by sleeping around, drinking, doing drugs, and being completely ridiculous. I have never done any of that. In fact, it wasn't until about 2 years ago that I had my first sip of a margarita. And I hated it. I left the church and almost immediately went to Bible College in Dallas, Texas. My heart was to become a missionary and to stay a Christian. Actually, my heart was to find out what a real Christian was! Because to be honest, I really had no clue.
Anyways, the rumors still fly as of this day on how I disvalue family. How I spread rumors about them and lie about what happened there. They don't want to see the truth. They can't see the truth. I was that way when I was there. I'm not being ugly or unkind. I totally "get it" when I hear the rumors. I understand their thought process. I was one of them at one point. Here's a small example on how deeply entrenched I was in the devils hold while in that place. When my Dad decided to leave the church, I felt it was my God-given duty to tell him, almost on a daily basis, how he was going to die and go to hell. I felt it was my God-given duty to tell him that he needed to repent and talk with the brothers and come to agreement with the authority. I felt totally justified in what I was saying. I felt like I was doing what God called me to do. I felt no guilt. No shame. No conscience in how I was putting myself in the place of God and judging my own Dad for something that wasn't even a sin! I was one of the most judgmental people living on the planet. I would judge if a person's hair wasn't perfect, or if their dress was too short, or if they were being immodest. I won't even try to explain how I was with people who weren't apart of the church. God forgive me! Love doesn't rule there. Love doesn't mean anything. Everything is superficial and underneath all the smiles and happiness is an ocean of sadness, confusion, fear and doubt. You'd never know from the outside though. Yes, there are a LOT of good times there. Relationships were real. Friends were real. But what held us together wasn't. It was just controlled atmosphere and everyone was "happy" as long as you followed each rule perfectly.
I have never quite gotten over the fact that they feel it's ok to talk behind my back (but who am I to judge? because I did it too). Once someone has left the church, you're the subject of everyone talking about how to not back slide and become a heathen. They claim that loving people and praying for them is the best way, yet they stab people with their words after they do something they don't agree with. They claim family is so important, yet they refuse to even sit down and eat dinner at Christmas or Thanksgiving with us. They claim they're a city, set on a hill, to attract people to Jesus, yet they push the ones away they feel are going to hell the most. So when I talk about being hypocritical, and uncaring, and unfeeling, it is my human side coming out, angry that I can't have my own family...my cousins, my aunt, my uncle, my friends, back. I'm human. I spent all my "aware" years there, thinking I'd never leave. Thinking this was it. Thinking that all the friends I had would be there when I died. I never imagined that I'd be leaving on such bad terms. I never imagined I'd not have my kids grow up with my best friend's kids. I never imagined that I'd be pushed into a world of unknowns and people who really don't seem to care about the reality of a war going on in my heart. It's been hard settling down and finding friends. I don't feel I fit anywhere. No, this isn't a pity party. This is just how I feel. I've made choices to not make friends on certain occassions and to hold back in other situations. I'm growing out of that. It just takes time.
So when I talk about family, friends, loved ones, I am talking about my life...my past, the people I have held close for the majority of my life, not any church I have attended recently. Not Paul's family (we just had a LOVELY visit with his brother and sister in law). Not anyone else. My heart aches sometimes and sometimes my blog, tweets and Facebook will share some of that ache. You people on Twitter, Facebook and those who read my blogs are my friends. I really don't have outside relationships at this point. That's how I communicate. I hope everyone understands and can move forward with knowing that even when I say that about family, friends being hypocritical...it's because they say with their mouths they want to see us and love us, yet when we reach out, we are verbally slapped and crushed by their words. I will say it here as I said above, I was one of those hypocrites once. I said and did the same things. I have no stones to throw. I just have a wounded heart and I pray some day God heals it all over and brings people into my life that I can love on, depend on and serve. <3
Edit: I have over 30 friends on my personal Facebook that have left the same church as well. We all understand each other and gain strength and encouragement from each other. Others experience the same shunning, hate and hypocrisy that I do. We understand when we talk about "HH" (Homestead Heritage) and we understand when we talk about family, and friends. We aren't naming anyone specific. There isn't anyone specific to talk about. And even if there was, I wouldn't do that. I still respect them. I still love them. But that doesn't keep me, and the numerous other young people and adults, from being hurt by their actions. Our stories of over coming and just knowing that others struggle still, help each other. It's kind of like Alcoholics Anonymous. You to go group to talk about your struggles and gain strength from others. It's the same with us. Except we all live all over the place and there's no way we could all get together for a support group.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Monday, June 29, 2015
The Power of #LoveWins
The world has been rocked this past week by the announcement that same sex marriage is now lawful in all states. The liberals are celebrating, the conservatives are horrified and then there are those who are "in the middle."
I have read posts full of hate towards the gays and lesbians, and how abominable they are. I have read posts saying how excited they are. I have read posts of people supporting both sides. But what has caught my eye the most is the commonality between all the posts that say, "#LoveWins."
That hashtag got me thinking deeply about this subject. How does love win if so much hate is being spread around? How can love win if we push away those who are different than us, believe differently, or follow a different path than us? We can't. Plain and simple. There is no way to reach someone with hate, disgust, or judgement. Let me make an example. Let's say you're at work and your co-worker comes to you (equal to you in rank) and starts saying to you, "You did your job all wrong. You disgust me with how you do things. You're just gross. You sinner! How dare you?!" What does that do to you? It makes you defensive. It makes you grind your feet a bit further into how you do things and you just want to snap back on "what business do they have to judge you and if they have so much trouble with you, why don't they just talk to the manager?" Your openness to hearing what they have to say is closed off completely. But let's say your co-worker comes to you and says something like this, "Hey, I just wanted you to know that I see your effort, but I wanted to mention something to you if I could? I noticed you did this job this way, but did you know our boss wants things done this way? I just know you're a good person and are trying your best. Didn't want you to lose your job!" You're probably going to feel a lot more receptive to them and even appreciate the advice and help. If you're full of pride, you won't appreciate anything anyone says, but for the most part, most people would appreciate such help.
Same goes for how we approach anyone about anything pertaining to Jesus, the Bible and Christianity. If we are shoving in their face our religion and how we think they're so crazy for not realizing that sleeping man with man and woman with woman is wrong, and we put them down, spouting off scripture and our beliefs, we will just be pushing them away. They'll be saying after you're done, "They're just like all the other Christians. They all think they're so perfect and righteous. They think they don't sin. They think they can judge me when they themselves are sinners. Why even try to believe in God, or change my ways when Christianity and Jesus obviously doesn't help them with their self righteous piousness and attitudes." You might wonder why I state it so matter-of-factly, but ti's because I have thought those very thoughts when I wasn't a Christian. Those who sat around and judged me and told me where all I was wrong and how dare I do or say such and such, I was so turned off by it. I just didn't want to have anything to do with them. But those who approached me with love, gentleness, kindness and forgiveness, I was able to accept into my life and it changed me! I was way more receptive to help and correction when the word came with Love. That is when Love Won with me.
It has made me really sad to see how Christians state their beliefs and have pushed away the gay community. I have a heart for these people. I think God wants us to feel love, compassion and care for them.
In Matthew 7: 1-3 it says, "Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor." (MSG) In other words, as other translations say, "Judge not, lest you be judged."
Also in John 8 also says this, "
Jesus went across to Mount Olives, but he was soon back in the Temple again. Swarms of people came to him. He sat down and taught them.
3-6 The religion scholars and Pharisees led in a woman who had been caught in an act of adultery. They stood her in plain sight of everyone and said, “Teacher, this woman was caught red-handed in the act of adultery. Moses, in the Law, gives orders to stone such persons. What do you say?” They were trying to trap him into saying something incriminating so they could bring charges against him.
6-8 Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger in the dirt. They kept at him, badgering him. He straightened up and said, “The sinless one among you, go first: Throw the stone.” Bending down again, he wrote some more in the dirt.
9-10 Hearing that, they walked away, one after another, beginning with the oldest. The woman was left alone. Jesus stood up and spoke to her. “Woman, where are they? Does no one condemn you?”
11 “No one, Master.”
“Neither do I,” said Jesus. “Go on your way. From now on, don’t sin.” (MSG)
With those two scriptures, it is clear that Jesus doesn't want us to judge and he also told the men wanting to stone the woman that the sinless should cast the first stone. Not one could and all left her alone with Jesus. That is Jesus' way of showing us that we all have sin.
Romans 3:23 says this, "But in our time something new has been added. What Moses and the prophets witnessed to all those years has happened. The God-setting-things-right that we read about has become Jesus-setting-things-right for us. And not only for us, but for everyone who believes in him. For there is no difference between us and them in this. Since we’ve compiled this long and sorry record as sinners (both us and them) and proved that we are utterly incapable of living the glorious lives God wills for us, God did it for us. Out of sheer generosity he put us in right standing with himself. A pure gift. He got us out of the mess we’re in and restored us to where he always wanted us to be. And he did it by means of Jesus Christ." (MSG) (short version is "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God).
We all sin. Our sin just might be different than others. It doesn't excuse our sin. It doesn't excuse theirs. All sin is deserving of death and hell. But instead, Jesus came back to life after being crucified on the cross to bring redemption, resurrection and grace in our lives! He extended us a hand of grace! He extended us a hand of love! He extended us a hand of forgiveness! he didn't come to condemn, but to heal. He came to bring life, love and freedom from sin. I believe Jesus wants us to love our fellow sinners. I believe He wants us to reach out to them and let true #LoveWin(s). Let our actions speak louder than words. Don't condone the sin. But don't bash and hate. Extend the same hand of grace, love and forgiveness that Jesus offered you to those who are around you. We need that grace on a daily basis. We can do no less for others. Let's be a light of love to every person around us. We have so much to offer, but our offerings will go stale if we offer it in a spirit of pride, hate and degradation.
Blessings!
I have read posts full of hate towards the gays and lesbians, and how abominable they are. I have read posts saying how excited they are. I have read posts of people supporting both sides. But what has caught my eye the most is the commonality between all the posts that say, "#LoveWins."
That hashtag got me thinking deeply about this subject. How does love win if so much hate is being spread around? How can love win if we push away those who are different than us, believe differently, or follow a different path than us? We can't. Plain and simple. There is no way to reach someone with hate, disgust, or judgement. Let me make an example. Let's say you're at work and your co-worker comes to you (equal to you in rank) and starts saying to you, "You did your job all wrong. You disgust me with how you do things. You're just gross. You sinner! How dare you?!" What does that do to you? It makes you defensive. It makes you grind your feet a bit further into how you do things and you just want to snap back on "what business do they have to judge you and if they have so much trouble with you, why don't they just talk to the manager?" Your openness to hearing what they have to say is closed off completely. But let's say your co-worker comes to you and says something like this, "Hey, I just wanted you to know that I see your effort, but I wanted to mention something to you if I could? I noticed you did this job this way, but did you know our boss wants things done this way? I just know you're a good person and are trying your best. Didn't want you to lose your job!" You're probably going to feel a lot more receptive to them and even appreciate the advice and help. If you're full of pride, you won't appreciate anything anyone says, but for the most part, most people would appreciate such help.
Same goes for how we approach anyone about anything pertaining to Jesus, the Bible and Christianity. If we are shoving in their face our religion and how we think they're so crazy for not realizing that sleeping man with man and woman with woman is wrong, and we put them down, spouting off scripture and our beliefs, we will just be pushing them away. They'll be saying after you're done, "They're just like all the other Christians. They all think they're so perfect and righteous. They think they don't sin. They think they can judge me when they themselves are sinners. Why even try to believe in God, or change my ways when Christianity and Jesus obviously doesn't help them with their self righteous piousness and attitudes." You might wonder why I state it so matter-of-factly, but ti's because I have thought those very thoughts when I wasn't a Christian. Those who sat around and judged me and told me where all I was wrong and how dare I do or say such and such, I was so turned off by it. I just didn't want to have anything to do with them. But those who approached me with love, gentleness, kindness and forgiveness, I was able to accept into my life and it changed me! I was way more receptive to help and correction when the word came with Love. That is when Love Won with me.
It has made me really sad to see how Christians state their beliefs and have pushed away the gay community. I have a heart for these people. I think God wants us to feel love, compassion and care for them.
In Matthew 7: 1-3 it says, "Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging. It’s easy to see a smudge on your neighbor’s face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, ‘Let me wash your face for you,’ when your own face is distorted by contempt? It’s this whole traveling road-show mentality all over again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face, and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor." (MSG) In other words, as other translations say, "Judge not, lest you be judged."
Also in John 8 also says this, "
Jesus went across to Mount Olives, but he was soon back in the Temple again. Swarms of people came to him. He sat down and taught them.
3-6 The religion scholars and Pharisees led in a woman who had been caught in an act of adultery. They stood her in plain sight of everyone and said, “Teacher, this woman was caught red-handed in the act of adultery. Moses, in the Law, gives orders to stone such persons. What do you say?” They were trying to trap him into saying something incriminating so they could bring charges against him.
6-8 Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger in the dirt. They kept at him, badgering him. He straightened up and said, “The sinless one among you, go first: Throw the stone.” Bending down again, he wrote some more in the dirt.
9-10 Hearing that, they walked away, one after another, beginning with the oldest. The woman was left alone. Jesus stood up and spoke to her. “Woman, where are they? Does no one condemn you?”
11 “No one, Master.”
“Neither do I,” said Jesus. “Go on your way. From now on, don’t sin.” (MSG)
With those two scriptures, it is clear that Jesus doesn't want us to judge and he also told the men wanting to stone the woman that the sinless should cast the first stone. Not one could and all left her alone with Jesus. That is Jesus' way of showing us that we all have sin.
Romans 3:23 says this, "But in our time something new has been added. What Moses and the prophets witnessed to all those years has happened. The God-setting-things-right that we read about has become Jesus-setting-things-right for us. And not only for us, but for everyone who believes in him. For there is no difference between us and them in this. Since we’ve compiled this long and sorry record as sinners (both us and them) and proved that we are utterly incapable of living the glorious lives God wills for us, God did it for us. Out of sheer generosity he put us in right standing with himself. A pure gift. He got us out of the mess we’re in and restored us to where he always wanted us to be. And he did it by means of Jesus Christ." (MSG) (short version is "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God).
We all sin. Our sin just might be different than others. It doesn't excuse our sin. It doesn't excuse theirs. All sin is deserving of death and hell. But instead, Jesus came back to life after being crucified on the cross to bring redemption, resurrection and grace in our lives! He extended us a hand of grace! He extended us a hand of love! He extended us a hand of forgiveness! he didn't come to condemn, but to heal. He came to bring life, love and freedom from sin. I believe Jesus wants us to love our fellow sinners. I believe He wants us to reach out to them and let true #LoveWin(s). Let our actions speak louder than words. Don't condone the sin. But don't bash and hate. Extend the same hand of grace, love and forgiveness that Jesus offered you to those who are around you. We need that grace on a daily basis. We can do no less for others. Let's be a light of love to every person around us. We have so much to offer, but our offerings will go stale if we offer it in a spirit of pride, hate and degradation.
Blessings!
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
The Suicide Note
When I was around 17 years old, I wrote a suicide note. I had lost all hope, all joy, and everything seemed bleak and sad to me. I had been friendless for nearly two years due to situations in my family that concerned a church we were attending at the time. If you've read previous posts on this blog, you'll know the story behind that. I'd like to encourage you to read them if you haven't already so you know the background to this story.
The other day, I was cleaning my home top to bottom and came across a box that contained about seven or eight of my personal, handwritten journals that I'd kept since I was very young. I used to write every night and would tell what happened in my day, blow-by-blow. You'd know what I ate for breakfast, what I planted in my garden, what I cleaned and who I talked to. I would get into the nitty-gritty details of life, no matter how joyous or how sad. Raw honesty permeated my journals.
But when I was about 17 years old, I had reached a very low place in my life. I had nothing to look forward to. I had sunk my few short years of life into a community that had rules and regulations that kept us from participating. I had been placed outside of the church with no explanation besides, "You'll be back soon," and "You have to suffer for the sins of your parents." *like I said, please read previous blog posts for clarity on this subject.* During this time, I would journal my heart out, sometimes writing for hours on end, page after page, almost as if it were my best friend. I think my journal and the lady at the post office were my best friends to be honest. Oh, and my dogs, Tafi and Daisy. They'd listen to all my ramblings and let me soak their soft fur with my heart broken tears.
When I found the box of journals, I set aside my cleaning for a bit and slumped against the wall to read. I pulled journal after journal out and read, page by page. I relived each day with heartbreaking slowness. Finally I pulled the journal out that contained the note. I wrote about how some of my friends had gotten baptized. I wrote about my best friend, Aileen, dying. I wrote about missed birthday parties. I wrote about meetings my Dad had with the elders. I wrote about my depression. I wrote about my sadness. I wrote about my dark thoughts of suicide. I didn't want to live anymore. The note was long, well thought out. In the beginning, the writing was clear, beautiful, poignant, purposeful. By the end it was scrawled, messy, barely readable and smudged. I remembered writing it. I was calm and collected at the beginning and by the end I was bawling my eyes out and ready to swallow my Dad's container of Tylenol. The pain in my heart was so deep. I felt like a knife had stabbed me and was being turned in slow motion, torturing me with it's deep puncture. The letter contained facts about why I didn't want to live anymore. I was tired of being the weird one. I was tired of being the outcast. I was tired of the one being forgotten about. I was tired of being pushed out of circles. I was tired of being rejected, hurt, lied to, lied about, and ultimately, it lead me to such a deep, dark place, I didn't have the will to go on. My life as I had known it was changed forever. I had no hope of it ever changing. I felt I had no other way out.
I laid my head back on the wall and drifted off to remember the nightmare of that night. I remembered going to the kitchen and getting the bottle. I remember getting the pink cup, filled it with orange juice and walked slowly, puffy eyes and all, to the bathroom to swallow as many as I could. I remember leaning over the sink and just crying. I cried until I had nothing left to cry. I was empty of emotions. My heart was shriveled up. I had blocked all feelings from surfacing. Feeling caused me to fear, shake, cry and be uncertain.
As I sat, remembering all this, I relived that moment when I had the bottle of pills and the juice in my hand. I remember mentally saying good bye to everyone I knew would miss me. Then my thoughts darkened and I realized, no one would miss me, at least so I thought. My parents would, but I thought they'd understand. I thought they'd know why I had to leave the earth. Shaking, I remembered having raised my hand to my mouth with the pills and suddenly feeling weak. I remembered shaking and putting the bottle back down. I dumped the juice out and ran to my room. There I knelt by my old, squeaky, greenish-brown rocking chair and cried. I remember praying the only prayer I could utter, "Jesus, please help me, if You're real. Please, please, please....I'm so undeserving. But please help me. I don't want to die."
I remember then, running to the bathroom and taking the pills back to the cabinet in the kitchen. It was nearly 3 am and my parents were peacefully sleeping and I didn't want to disturb them. I'm sure I should have, but I was embarrassed and dealt with it on my own. I prayed almost all night. I read my Bible. I searched for words of comfort and of peace. I searched for words of confirmation from Him. That night was the first night I knew God spoke to me. The three words He said to me were, "You are Mine." That was it. But I clung to those words like they were my lifeline. They were my lifeline! Weeks and weeks passed. Even years passed. God finally pulled me out of that bad situation and placed me on solid ground. Suicide was never a thought after that night until many years later when I experienced something else that crushed me to my core. But it was that night that saved me in the night years later.
God walks with us through the darkest nights of our lives. But are we willing to reach out to Him? So often I find myself leaning on myself. When I do that, I always inevitably fall. Without fail. Period. But when I lean on Him, I am placed on a solid Rock that I can depend on. Suicide is a tough thing to contemplate. But when you're at the brink, so often a person doesn't even think about what they're doing. It takes a beautiful act of God to reach through the dark clouds that satan surrounds us with and help us turn around to see the light of His love, joy, peace and hope.
While this isn't a happy-go-lucky post, I felt urged on to write about it. My mind has been pondering it all day. Now when I look back on that time, I still get a bit nostalgic, remembering that dark place, but the majority of my feelings are placed on the fact that I overcame with His help. I am surrounded with memories of Him reaching out and giving me the urge to put the bottle of pills down and to dump my juice down the sink. I am surrounded with the peace of knowing that He cared so much for me that He rescued me from that dark, slimy pit. God doesn't just call us out to leave us hanging; He calls us up to fulfill His purpose. Sometimes He allows us to walk through the dark times so we can encourage others with our experiences. His power can be glorified because when we overcome with His help, His name is glorified.
If you're in the a dark place, feeling overwhelmed and like life isn't worth living, please pray and reach out to someone who can help. You aren't weak for having these feelings. You won't be made fun of. If you'll allow Him to, He'll turn your test into a testimony, so His name can be lifted higher in your life and in the life of others.
God bless!
Suicide Prevention Line: 1-800-273-8255 (24/7, 365)
The other day, I was cleaning my home top to bottom and came across a box that contained about seven or eight of my personal, handwritten journals that I'd kept since I was very young. I used to write every night and would tell what happened in my day, blow-by-blow. You'd know what I ate for breakfast, what I planted in my garden, what I cleaned and who I talked to. I would get into the nitty-gritty details of life, no matter how joyous or how sad. Raw honesty permeated my journals.
But when I was about 17 years old, I had reached a very low place in my life. I had nothing to look forward to. I had sunk my few short years of life into a community that had rules and regulations that kept us from participating. I had been placed outside of the church with no explanation besides, "You'll be back soon," and "You have to suffer for the sins of your parents." *like I said, please read previous blog posts for clarity on this subject.* During this time, I would journal my heart out, sometimes writing for hours on end, page after page, almost as if it were my best friend. I think my journal and the lady at the post office were my best friends to be honest. Oh, and my dogs, Tafi and Daisy. They'd listen to all my ramblings and let me soak their soft fur with my heart broken tears.
When I found the box of journals, I set aside my cleaning for a bit and slumped against the wall to read. I pulled journal after journal out and read, page by page. I relived each day with heartbreaking slowness. Finally I pulled the journal out that contained the note. I wrote about how some of my friends had gotten baptized. I wrote about my best friend, Aileen, dying. I wrote about missed birthday parties. I wrote about meetings my Dad had with the elders. I wrote about my depression. I wrote about my sadness. I wrote about my dark thoughts of suicide. I didn't want to live anymore. The note was long, well thought out. In the beginning, the writing was clear, beautiful, poignant, purposeful. By the end it was scrawled, messy, barely readable and smudged. I remembered writing it. I was calm and collected at the beginning and by the end I was bawling my eyes out and ready to swallow my Dad's container of Tylenol. The pain in my heart was so deep. I felt like a knife had stabbed me and was being turned in slow motion, torturing me with it's deep puncture. The letter contained facts about why I didn't want to live anymore. I was tired of being the weird one. I was tired of being the outcast. I was tired of the one being forgotten about. I was tired of being pushed out of circles. I was tired of being rejected, hurt, lied to, lied about, and ultimately, it lead me to such a deep, dark place, I didn't have the will to go on. My life as I had known it was changed forever. I had no hope of it ever changing. I felt I had no other way out.
I laid my head back on the wall and drifted off to remember the nightmare of that night. I remembered going to the kitchen and getting the bottle. I remember getting the pink cup, filled it with orange juice and walked slowly, puffy eyes and all, to the bathroom to swallow as many as I could. I remember leaning over the sink and just crying. I cried until I had nothing left to cry. I was empty of emotions. My heart was shriveled up. I had blocked all feelings from surfacing. Feeling caused me to fear, shake, cry and be uncertain.
As I sat, remembering all this, I relived that moment when I had the bottle of pills and the juice in my hand. I remember mentally saying good bye to everyone I knew would miss me. Then my thoughts darkened and I realized, no one would miss me, at least so I thought. My parents would, but I thought they'd understand. I thought they'd know why I had to leave the earth. Shaking, I remembered having raised my hand to my mouth with the pills and suddenly feeling weak. I remembered shaking and putting the bottle back down. I dumped the juice out and ran to my room. There I knelt by my old, squeaky, greenish-brown rocking chair and cried. I remember praying the only prayer I could utter, "Jesus, please help me, if You're real. Please, please, please....I'm so undeserving. But please help me. I don't want to die."
I remember then, running to the bathroom and taking the pills back to the cabinet in the kitchen. It was nearly 3 am and my parents were peacefully sleeping and I didn't want to disturb them. I'm sure I should have, but I was embarrassed and dealt with it on my own. I prayed almost all night. I read my Bible. I searched for words of comfort and of peace. I searched for words of confirmation from Him. That night was the first night I knew God spoke to me. The three words He said to me were, "You are Mine." That was it. But I clung to those words like they were my lifeline. They were my lifeline! Weeks and weeks passed. Even years passed. God finally pulled me out of that bad situation and placed me on solid ground. Suicide was never a thought after that night until many years later when I experienced something else that crushed me to my core. But it was that night that saved me in the night years later.
God walks with us through the darkest nights of our lives. But are we willing to reach out to Him? So often I find myself leaning on myself. When I do that, I always inevitably fall. Without fail. Period. But when I lean on Him, I am placed on a solid Rock that I can depend on. Suicide is a tough thing to contemplate. But when you're at the brink, so often a person doesn't even think about what they're doing. It takes a beautiful act of God to reach through the dark clouds that satan surrounds us with and help us turn around to see the light of His love, joy, peace and hope.
While this isn't a happy-go-lucky post, I felt urged on to write about it. My mind has been pondering it all day. Now when I look back on that time, I still get a bit nostalgic, remembering that dark place, but the majority of my feelings are placed on the fact that I overcame with His help. I am surrounded with memories of Him reaching out and giving me the urge to put the bottle of pills down and to dump my juice down the sink. I am surrounded with the peace of knowing that He cared so much for me that He rescued me from that dark, slimy pit. God doesn't just call us out to leave us hanging; He calls us up to fulfill His purpose. Sometimes He allows us to walk through the dark times so we can encourage others with our experiences. His power can be glorified because when we overcome with His help, His name is glorified.
If you're in the a dark place, feeling overwhelmed and like life isn't worth living, please pray and reach out to someone who can help. You aren't weak for having these feelings. You won't be made fun of. If you'll allow Him to, He'll turn your test into a testimony, so His name can be lifted higher in your life and in the life of others.
God bless!
Suicide Prevention Line: 1-800-273-8255 (24/7, 365)
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